Chapter 20
The Baron woke up to a knock at his door. He pulled himself out of bed, falling to the floor with a thud, and cursed at whoever would bother him at such an ungodly hour. He wished for nothing more than an energy drink at this very moment, or preferably coffee.
At the moment, he would gladly sell his soul for a can of monster. He took the next best thing, something that would surely shock him out of his sleepy state. The Baron took a swig of the Garum he placed on the nightstand and winced.
Oh God! So much salt! So much fish! Perhaps just one more sip…
The knocks came again and the Baron jumped out of bed, awake but annoyed. He swung open the door and tried to not let the annoyance show on his face.
“Yes? What do you want?”
It came out more violently than he wanted. The person who came to wake him was obviously just some slave from the Assai’id confederation. It was a black man with an impressive afro that stood before him, wincing as he felt the venom in the Baron’s voice. The Baron’s face softened considerably.
“Flavius has sent me to inform you that breakfast is being prepared, as well as to escort you to the dining room.”
His voice was deep and he had a very slight west African accent. The Baron wasn’t familiar enough with Africa to identify exactly what the accent was, but it was there. This man was very far from home, it was unbecoming of the Baron to be rude to someone like him.
“Of course, thank you for coming to get me. I apologize for the snippiness earlier, it was unbecoming from a man of my station. Allow me to get dressed and then we will be off.”
The Baron turned to head back inside but hesitated.
“Quick question, if you don’t mind me asking. What is your name and where are you from?”
The man smiled a little bit and bowed slightly.
“I am Nzinga and I hail from Dhul Kalluun of the Assai’id confederation.”
“Thank you for indulging me, Nzinga. I will be out shortly.”
The Baron went back in to change out of his night clothes, putting on the poofy shirt and pants that made up the traditional garb of the Empire. Wearing this instead of one of the newer three piece suits with frock coats, or a collared shirt and breeches would generally have labeled him a conservative within the Empire, however, he was just old and preferred the fashion of his youth. There was absolutely no one around who would accuse the Baron of being conservative.
He debated wearing his cuirass and the rest of his armor, and decided to just wear the chausses. He doubted he would be attacked, but he still wanted some form of safety. Wearing his full armor would make him seem paranoid, but wearing the leg armor would at least allow him to knee people if the need arose, and he was pretty good at kneeing people. He wasn’t sure where he picked it up, but the Baron was a master of Muay Thai, or whatever it was called in this world.
Why have I mastered so many different styles of combat? Where did I even find the time?
Nzinga escorted the Baron to the dining hall, making small talk about their homelands the entire time. The Baron welcomed it, it wasn’t all that often he could ask someone questions about the Assai’id confederation. And Nzinga seemed to be happy he could talk at length about his homeland. Before he left, the Baron made sure to give Nzinga a small pouch of Reiskgeld and a promise of lucrative employment should he live out his tenure as an indentured servant and then decide to come to Bickenstadt.
The dining hall felt like the mess hall from when the Baron was in basic, a large room with tables placed periodically throughout the room. He headed over to the table where his lieutenants sat with their host for today, which was Flavius again. Fergus was sitting quietly staring at nothing in particular, his leg bouncing up and down frantically. Udo was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, arms crossed, dead asleep.
“Baronis! I hope you found your accommodations agreeable?”
“Yes of course, your hospitality was of the utmost quality.”
The Baron thanked the servant who passed by and poured him a cup of wine.
“As was your wine.”
The Baron said as he took a sip.
“Gratias Amicus, I am glad…”
Flavius paused and sniffed the air, then looked to the Baron and frowned.
“Did you...drink the Garum?”
The Baron gave a pained half smile and sat down at the table.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you smell like salt and fish.”
The Baron put a hand to his heart in mock offense.
“Seems awfully rude to accuse your guests of smelling bad.”
Flavius stared at the Baron, completely deadpan.
“Not bad. Just salty and fishy.”
“Most men think of fish as a putrid smell.”
Flavius's eyecontact never wavered, though a small smile crept across his face.
“I am not most men. Nor am I human.”
The Baron nodded appreciatively before taking another sip of his wine.
“A compelling argument, to be sure!”
Fergus stopped bouncing his leg and leaned forward on his elbows.
“Baron, canyae stop chewin' tha fat with our host? I wanna ken what ‘e ‘as in store for us today.”
The Baron smiled apologetically to Fergus and stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“Apologies Fergus. Flavius, Please, tell us what our itinerary is for today.”
Fergus’s stomach audibly growled, which reminded the Baron how hungry he was as well. Flavius smiled at Fergus and addressed the whole table.
“To begin our day, we are going to eat. Our breakfast is Subcinericius topped with dates and honey paired with the juice of oranges, as well as cured pork cut into thin strips. We will make however much you desire, simply ask a servant to inform the chef you want more and it will be done. Ah, here they come now.”
A procession of servants brought out plates piled high with pancakes and ham, jugs of juice and honey, as well as baskets of nuts and fruits. Flavius continued speaking as the servants placed everything around the table.
“After our breakfast we will be giving you a more in depth tour of our Regio, which is what you will be doing throughout the week in between meeting with our senate and participating in games. In fact, today we have Iudi Circenses, Chariot racing, which you may participate in if you happen to know how to drive one.”
The Baron looked to Fergus and Udo. Fergus shook his head and Udo seemed to not be paying attention, his eyes very obviously drawn to the beautiful servant girls pouring him and the others wine.
“Udo.”
Udo waved a hand back dismissively, never taking his eyes off the servant girls.
“Don’t worry Baron, I’m listening. None of us have ridden in a chariot before.”
Flavius frowned slightly.
“A shame, really. Perhaps you would like to try? Not in the race of course, but afterwards I am sure the athletes would not mind giving you a ride. Most of them are human after all, some may even be from the Empire.”
“Famulorum?”
“Possibly former Famulorum, but most athletes have come here willingly. And, might I add, many former Famulorum choose to stay in Caprae Loco of their own volition. Some have settled down and created families here after becoming cives. Some have been here for generations and are pillars of their communities! I understand that you take issue with out system, however-"
The Baron cut Flavius off.
“I am not interested in hearing your defense of slavery.”
Flavius seemed to consider this for a moment, before shrugging and leaning back in his chair.
“Suit yourself. I believe our arguments are quite compelling. Oh, there is an unarmed combat tournament at the end of the week if you would like to attend.”
That caused all three men to perk up. Even Udo, who had his attention mostly on the Assai’idian servant girl he was flirting with. Truly, a master of multitasking.
“Yes of course, we would love to! I may be a Baron, but I also run my own mercenary company. All three of us are quite fond of fighting on the front lines.”
“Ah yes, the famous Klarwasser Mercenary Company. If you don’t mind me asking, is it true that you have almost died twice in the past year?”
I actually did die that first time…
Thought the Baron as he suppressed a grimace.
“Yes, first I was shot through the skull as I was leading a charge in Holenstadt. Through the eye, actually.”
The Baron felt his eyepatch, embarrassed.
I mean…I do still have it though. Not really sure why. Too late to stop wearing it now!
“Then I dueled against a Berzerkeri about twice my size, and that’s saying something! He was quite the tough nut to crack, let me tell you. Even after being beheaded he managed one last attack in which knocked me flat on my ass. The scar on my nose is the gift he gave me during that fight. Cut it right through the middle, down to the bone, never felt pain quite like it before.”
Flavius tilted his head to the side in confusion.
“But you were shot through the head, no?”
The Baron shrugged.
“Well I didn’t really feel that one. Too busy dying.”
Flavius nodded and stroked his chin.
“Ah, I see! Of course, that does make sense! You cannot feel much if you are dead! Or, well, dying. Well, let us drink to your continued surwiwal!”
Surwiwal? Is that some sort of accent thing?
Everyone raised their wine glass and smashed them together.
“Prost!” “Salud!” “Skál!”
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After their breakfast feast and their tour of Caprae Loco’s Industrial District, the Baron met with the senate of the Brayherds, but he found that he didn’t need to be there for the first couple of meetings.
He didn’t want to broach the subject of supporting his rebellion on the first meeting, and what was being discussed were subjects that he had long since left to the bureaucrats and his son Wolfgang, who many referred to as the true Baron of Bickenstadt, an assessment the Baron agreed with whole heartedly.
And so, for the majority of the trip, the Baron was mostly uninvolved with political matters, making the whole thing more of a vacation for him and his retinue. He got to tour the beautiful city of Caprae Loco, and, most importantly, he got a better idea of how Brayherds thought.
As far as the Baron could tell, the things that worked best with them was pure flattery. Additionally, they really did not get offended by much. The Baron had tried to push his luck a few times with responses that would’ve led to a duel if spoken to an Imperial noble, but the brayherd nobility really didn’t mind.
Anything he said that could be seen as a subtle dig about how the Empire is better than Caprae Loco simply rolled off their perfectly sculpted muscles like Merlot off a duck’s back. They usually just replied with something along the lines of ‘The difference between our people is fascinating!’ This discovery taught the Baron three things:
Firstly, that the Brayherds are almost never actually trying to insult people. They seem to just be speaking their minds, and assume that others will take them at face value. Brayherds will oftentimes comment on an aspect of Imperial culture that they find very strange, however their intention is not to criticize. It is simply to voice their opinions and prompt conversation.
It seemed to be a cultural value, not necessarily a racial trait, as a lot of the humans he interacted with who had lived in Caprae Loco as full citizens acted the same way. He had even had servants comment on the peculiarity of Empiresmens’ propensity for political radicalization and taking extremely polarizing positions, and about how they thought it was strange how the Empire functions. Comments like that could cause some Imperial nobles to banish them from their lands at best, and have them killed at worst. Oftentimes both. However, the Baron agreed with their assessment.
Secondly, any positive mention of Caprae Loco and Brayherds generally was a recipe for instant friendship, which was a fairly normal occurance, though the Brayherds seemed to be particularly easy to please like that. The Baron and his bureaucrats had managed to get a downright shocking amount of trading rights from the senate, including things like Bickenstadt merchants getting tried using Bickenstadt law instead of Brayherd law if they broke the law in Caprae Loco.
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Lastly, Brayherds tended to really enjoy fighting. Individual strength, alongside strong unit cohesion, are extremely highly valued traits in Brayherd society. They had a rich tradition of martial competitions, with Greco-Roman wrestling, something obviously brought by otherworlders, being the most popular spectator sport in Caprae Loco, just above chariot races.
Keeping one’s skills sharp and making sure that their military is extremely well drilled and combat ready are considered more important than almost anything else. The only thing they considered more important than that was keeping everyone fed. Brayherds tended to revel in warfare, because it allowed them to gain experience and made sure their armies were battle tested and effective.
And, very importantly for the Baron, they had not had a large-scale war in decades, and their warriors were getting very restless. With this information, the Baron felt that he had a fairly high chance of being able to convince the senate to support him when his rebellion started.
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At the end of the week, The gang was very excited for the tournament. They were all looking forward to facing off against a Brayherd. They had seen quite a few of them in the past week, and they were massive, easily towering over all three of them.
The soldiers that had followed them around as a security detail looked extremely strong, even larger than most of the normal brayherds they had interacted with, and looked to be about twice as strong. One of their security details had even been one of the 10ft tall Bisonmen the Baron had read about, whom he found he actually had very little desire to fight in single combat.
The group entered the colosseum which the Brayherds used for all sorts of games and festivities. Their guide for the day, Flavius (No relation to the Flavius that guided them at the beginning of the week) spoke as the group marveled at the massive structure.
“In the past, the colosseum hosted gladiatorial matches, where two would fight to the death, though of course now such matches are outlawed. One man dying at the end of a match means one less possible soldier. Two men surviving creates two veterans!”
The Baron, Udo, and Fergus were barely listening. They were all taking in the beautiful structure of the Coliseum. The Baron spoke to Flavius without ever taking his eyes off of the intricate etching work done on a scale the Baron had only seen in massive religious complexes.
“Truly a marvel of engineering. Absolutely beautiful. It would seem you Brayherds prefer both form and function in your architecture. Usually that comes with tradeoffs, but it seems to me that you people have mastered it!”
“Many thanks, Baronis. Many of my fellow Brayherds believe these gaudy displays are the reason diplomatic missions like yours are so rare. I beg to differ. Right this way, I will guide you to the waiting room where you can sign up for the fights.”
“We appreciate your assistance, Flavius.”
The group filled out their information and soon after brackets were drawn.
There were 64 competitors in total, and all of them looked like strong fighters. All of the competitors gathered in the middle of the colosseum and split off into their different matches. Eight fights could happen at a time, and none of the Baron’s men were in the first couple of cycles, and even when the Baron and his men were up, the fights were over relatively quickly.
As everyone paired up and got to the marked dirt arenas, the crows screamed in approval. Every fighter made a show of walking over, some doing cartwheels, some doing flips, others just raising their arms and gesturing for the crowd to get louder. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and every time a fighter did something flashy, the entire stadium shook with the force of thousands of people cheering and stomping their feet.
As soon as the referee swung their arm Udo launched himself at his opponent, and the crowd screamed in approval. His opponent, a fit looking man wearing a simple linen shirt and pants with tan skin and a shaved head, was almost immediately overwhelmed. His squared up, forward stance gave Udo plenty to work with. The first thing he wanted to do was test the man’s guard a bit to find a weakness, then push through and put him in a submission hold.
Udo jabbed at him, lighting fast, with not much force behind them. The man slapped away his strikes with a decent amount of force, something which, against Udo, could very easily end with an overcommitment that he could exploit.
After blocking a couple of Udo’s probing strikes and slapping away a few grab attempts, Udo managed to slip through his opponent’s guard. He threw a wide hook, which the man moved to block by battering it aside with his forearm, which was a mistake. Udo slipped his arm around the man’s block and onto the inside of his forearm, pulling it towards him as Udo began to close the trap.
Stepping inside the man’s guard and shooting his offhand forward, Udo managed to get a solid grip around his neck and, using his other arm, gained control of the man’s lead arm by getting a grip on his elbow. Udo stepped past the man, pulled his arm into Udo’s armpit, spun around, and slammed his hip into the man’s pelvis as he pulled the man’s neck into his other armpit, using his hip like a lever and slamming the man face down into the ground.
The crowd roared as Udo immediately mounted him, swiftly trapping his neck in the crook of Udo’s arm and using his other arm to push against the man’s head. The fight was over in seconds after that, the man’s resistance very quickly lessening until he tapped Udo’s arm, a universal martial arts gesture signaling surrender.
Udo released him and stood up to soak in the crowd's attention, raising his fists in victory and roaring as the crowd’s yells became louder. He made sure to check if his opponent was ok, helping him to his feet and throwing an arm around his shoulder. The man’s neck was visibly bruised, but he showed no discomfort at having Udo’s arm around him.
Both men raised their fists and the crowd went absolutely wild, screaming, throwing roses which were sold with the sole purpose of throwing at athletes, and stomping their feet to create a cacophony of noise that surpassed many battlefields. As the two men went back to the pit where fighters waited, Udo offered him advice on how to break out of grapples.
As much as he enjoyed a steamroll, to Udo, there was nothing better than fighting an opponent of equal or greater skill and coming out on top.
After another two cycles of fighting, 24 matches in all, both Fergus and the Baron were up.
Fergus was shirtless, wearing just his leather headband and his tartan kilt. His opponent was likely an Empiresmen. His skin was fair, his hair was short and black, and his eyes were blue. He had a long mustache which twirled up at the ends. He was also shirtless, though he was wearing linen breeches, leather suspenders, and black riding boots, and he was over a head taller than Fergus. The Empiresman squared up and put most of his weight on his lead leg. Fergus stood with his hands at his hip.
Just like Udo, as soon as the referee dropped his arm Fergus shot forward like a cannonball. The Empiresman threw out a straight punch, which Fergus ducked and continued to sprint in a crouch before spearing the man in the gut with his shoulder, knocking him on his back. Just like with Udo, the crowd roared as Fergus rolled on top of his opponent, straddling his waist.
Fergus delivered punch after punch for the force of a freight train, while the Empiresman desperately tried to redirect and block them. The Empiresman had his forearms covering his face, trying to pivot side to side, desperately trying to avoid taking solid hits. Fergus began to alternate between striking for his face and his flank, the dull thud of fists hitting flesh carrying with them the distinct sounds of bones cracking.
“Fich! Sheiβe! I concede! I concede!”
Fergus’s next punch slammed into the ground next to the man’s head, kicking up a cloud of dirt as he made a small crater in the ground. After taking a second to think, Fergus rolled backwards off of him and onto his feet, raising his fists and howling along with the crowd.
The Baron was sizing his opponent up as he waited for him to make a move. His opponent was about as tall as the Baron, and had a very similar build, though his skin was much darker and he was obviously at least three decades younger. If all else was equal, his opponent would have the advantage. Unfortunately for the young man, all was not equal.
As soon as his opponent began to move the Baron could feel what his first move would be, step forward and straight punch to the solar plexus, trying to test his guard. The opponent lifted his front leg and the Baron hopped forward and stomped at the front of his foot, causing him to stumble forward into the Baron’s loving embrace.
As the young man fell forward the Baron swung his elbow up as hard as he could, catching the man square in the jaw. His opponent slammed into the ground splayed out on his back, out cold. The crowd watching his fight went silent for a few seconds before erupting in cheers. The Baron put the man on his side and walked back to the dugout, waving to his adoring crowd all the while.
After the rest of the cycles were done, the semifinalists paired up for fights. There were eight contestants left, five Brayherds and three humans. Four fights would be held at once, and in the first cycle Fergus was fighting a Brayherd.
Fergus and the Brayherd were both shirtless, as was tradition amongst wrestlers. As Fergus sized up his opponent, he realized this fight was going to be an uphill battle. The Brayherd was close to two whole feet taller than Fergus, and while Fergus was one of the strongest warriors of his day, his strength lay in fighting with weapons and on the battlefield. Hand to hand was the domain dominated by Brayherds and Orcs.
The referee dropped his arm and the two men squared up against each other, wide stances, low to the ground. The only way Fergus was going to win was if he could bring the Brayherd to the ground, and even then that prospect was a bit iffy.
The two fighters circled around each other and lashed out, trying to get a good hold on the other. The Brayherd lunged forward and Fergus ducked, launching himself up and forward into the Brayherd’s midsection.
Fergus grabbed the Brayherd’s hips and lifted, bringing him up and slamming him down on the ground. As Fergus moved to mount him, the Brayherd trapped him using his legs, clamping down around his midsection. Fergus elbowed him in the solar plexus, eliciting a gasp from the Brayherd.
As Fergus reared up for another strike, the Brayherd landed a devastating punch to Fergus’s face and kept him stuck in place, forcing Fergus to bring his guard up and pivot shoulders back and forth to avoid the strikes. The Brayherd landed a solid strike to Fergus’s chest before using his legs to roll Fergus over onto his back, fully reversing the mount Fergus had attempted.
Fergus tried to strike the Brayherd wherever he could, but the Brayherd simply grabbed his wrists and immobilized his arms, pushing them down onto the ground above Fergus’s head. The Brayherd bent his torso and head backwards, unleashing an earth shattering headbutt directly to Fergus’s face.
Fergus wasn’t out cold, but his vision was blurry, and his ears were ringing. Before he could chamber another headbutt, Fergus tapped his wrist with his fingers, signaling surrender.
The next cycle the Baron was paired up against Udo. Udo was extremely excited for the fight, however, it was over in a flash. As soon as the referee swung his arm down Udo launched himself at the Baron, but unlike his previous fights, as soon as Udo came into range he found the Baron’s heel flying at his chin faster than he could react.
Udo had too much momentum to stop himself, and the strength of the Baron’s kick combined with Udo’s momentum meant that as soon as the heel connected with Udo’s chin, he was face down in the dirt, knocked out cold. The Baron crouched down next to him and laughed as the crowd cheered.
“We've sparred enough for me to know how you fight, son! You never stood a chance!”
All that was left was the second round of the semifinals, four opponents left, one fight happening at a time.
The Baron’s fight was first. His opponent was a Brayherd who was much larger than the rest of them, at least a full nine feet tall and massive extremely well defined muscles. He was shirtless, as was the Baron, and the Brayherd had what looked like a beard, or at least whatever counted as a beard for a goat. As the two fighters stood across from each other, The Brayherd spoke to the Baron in decent Reikers. His voice was deep and the rumble before he spoke was almost inaudible for how low it was.
“My name is Gaius Bestia Caprae, any man who has reached this far has earned my respect. What is your name?”
The Baron bowed flamboyantly, one arm at his stomach, the other extended off to the side.
“I am Johan Bleichroder von Bickenstadt, Baron von Bickenstadt. Most simply refer to me as Baron.”
Gaius raised an eyebrow.
“Hm, Baronis, huh? Oh! You are the guest we have in the senate! My father is on the senate, Hetobius Bestia Caprae!”
I haven’t really met with the senate properly yet, it’s all bureaucratic nonsense I have no interest in at the moment…
The Baron smiled and squared up in a classic Muay Thai stance.
“Fantastic! I will have the pleasure of telling him I beat his son in a fight!”
Gaius cracked his knuckles and crouched down, hands open and thrust out in front of him.
“And I will have the pleasure of telling him I beat our guest in a fight!”
After waiting for a moment to see if the two contestants would continue talking, the referee began the match with a swipe of his arm.
The Baron rushed at Gaius. Sensing Gaius would just wait for the Baron to attack, he decided to oblige. The Baron leveled a devastating punch at Gaius’s head, letting it fly with as much power as he could. Gaius simply leaned his head forward and allowed the punch to connect with the top of his skull. The impact visibly rippled down his entire body. If any human took that blow their head would crack open like a watermelon.
However, luckily for Gaius, he was not human. The Baron was barely able to dodge Gaius’s grab, dropping backward and rolling away from him, just barely slipping out of the hold Gaius got on his wrist after the first strike. The Baron came back up on his feet and took a moment to study him carefully, crossing an arm on his stomach and chewing on the thumbnail of his other arm.
“Why do you look no worse for wear after that? I hit you pretty hard.”
Gaius smiled, knocked on his head, and beckoned the Baron forward.
“Come and find out, Baronis.”
The Baron chuckled and launched himself forward, raising his leg and landing a devastating ax kick directly on Gaius’s head. Again, Gaius smiled and just tried to grab the Baron’s leg, which the Baron responded to by jumping and kicking him in the chest with his other leg, sending the Baron flying back.
Gaius advanced, and the Baron responded with a kick aimed at his shin as Gaius was stepping forward. The blow connected with an audible thwack and Gaius stumbled as his lead leg was kicked out from under him. The Baron used the momentum from his kick to spin around and hook Gaius’s other leg with his foot, pulling it towards him and causing Gaius to fall to a knee.
The Baron jumped forwards and landed a flying knee to Gaius’s face, which Gaius used to force himself back up to his feet. Gaius dashed forward to grab the Baron, who deflected his fists by slamming them aside with his forearms and delivered a spin kick to Gaius’s chest, stopping his momentum almost entirely and maintaining some distance between them. The Baron looked at the bruises forming on Gaius’s chest and frowned.
“You feel any of that?”
Gaius let loose a hearty laugh and slapped his chest.
“Of course I did! I just know how to absorb it.”
Gaius responded with a smile.
“Great.”
The Baron muttered under his breath as he rushed at Gaius again.
The Baron hit Gaius with a flurry of blows as he pushed forward all while deflecting Gaius’s attempts at grappling. When the Baron got closer, he began elbowing Gaius’s head and punching his flank as quick and hard as he could manage. The Baron ducked under one of Gaius’s grabs, pulled on his beard, and used the force to pull himself on top, standing on Gaius’s thighs as he elbowed the top of his head over and over.
“Come on big guy!” Thunk “Pass out!” Thunk “You know you want to!” Thunk
The Baron stretched his body up as far as his arm would go and elbowed as hard as he physically could, again causing no noticeable damage but eliciting a grunt from Gaius.
The Baron smiled and reveled in that small noise for a bit too long, because before he knew it Gaius had grabbed him and threw him to the ground, making him skip along the dirt like a stone thrown perfectly across a lake. The Baron hit the ground hard, knocking the breath out of him and making him scramble to recover as he finally came to a stop.
Unfortunately for the Baron, Gaius was finally on the offensive, stomping and punching at the Baron as he rolled around on the ground. The Baron managed to get to his feet after rolling like a madman to dodge Gaius’s attacks and rushed at him, extremely tired from his frantic attacking and dodging.
The Baron threw a punch at Gaius’s chest, which he caught in his hand and smiled. The Baron threw his other arm at Gaius, which he also caught with ease. Gaius lifted and tilted his torso and head back, obviously getting ready for a headbutt. The Baron’s eyes widened in surprise and he spoke out loud.
“Oh! It's because you’re a goatman! Right?! Your head’s got some padding or something?!”
Gaius smiled brightly and brought his head down onto the Baron’s face with a deafening Crack!
The Baron’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped backwards. His nose was broken, as was the bone around the nose. Gaius gently guided him down to the ground with a smug look on his face. As Gaius raised his arms in victory and the crowd began to cheer, the Baron suddenly began to scream and writhe on the ground, clutching his head and kicking up dust as he convulsed.
Gaius’s smile dropped immediately and he crouched down to see check on the baron. As he was just starting to ask what was wrong, the Baron’s eyes began to glow, cycling between bright red, dark green, and bright yellow. His body formed an arch as he grasped at his head and screamed. Gaius tried to turn and call for a medic but found he couldn’t move, as all of a sudden there was a great force pushing down on him, strong enough for him to barely be able to stand.
He looked around with his eyes and found that all of the other fighters were in a similar state of distress, most of them being forced fully onto their backs or stomachs as they lost the struggle against whatever force was affecting them. The benches near the fighters began to creak and groan before being pushed down into the dirt, the backrests getting folded in on themselves as the legs sunk deeper and deeper into the arena’s floor.
“SABIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!”
The Baron yelled as his eyes began to glow brighter and cycle faster. All around him spikes made of earth burst from the ground and burst into flames. He spit blood in every direction as he continued to convulse in the arch his body formed, screaming and thrashing around as he seemingly tried to fight whatever had overcome him.
“NO! NO! SABINE!”
More spikes of flaming earth burst from the ground, some erupting dangerously close to the contestants, close enough to burn Gaius who was stuck closest to him. His face couldn’t even contort in pain, whatever force was acting on him was strong enough to force his facial muscles down and his mouth open.
“RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
With one final yell and a final tensing of the Baron’s muscles hard enough for them to tear, he collapsed into a bloody, sweaty heap, releasing everyone around him with one final violent push of gravity, wrenching anyone still standing violently to the ground and exploding the earth spikes into a million pieces of shrapnel, somehow managing to avoid seriously injuring a single person.
Everyone stared at the Baron, unable to speak after what they had witnessed. The crowd was dead silent, with the exception of the clamor caused by the people closest to him trying to get away. Gaius looked to Udo as medics finally snapped out of their stupor and ran to begin working on him.
“Quid in mundo erat? Ah, I mean, what in the name of Flavi just happened?!”